One More Chance
by E.H.Crackers
Summary: David Karofsky found himself away from the storm. Only one word in the entire English language could effectively describe his surroundings; white. The floor was white, the walls were white and the roof was white. They were all the exact same shade of white also; pure.
1. The Storm

**One Last Chance by E. H. Crackers**

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

_Hello I am E. H. Crackers , author of this FanFiction. _

_I composed the idea of this story a long time ago and have only recently come across it again. It revolves around the characters Kurt Hummel and Dave Karofsky, while including other Glee characters as well. I planned this before the end of season two, and it follows the path in which I want, rather than how Glee actually panned out. This is a story of regret and guilt while still containing a small fantasy element. _

_I do not own Glee and this is purely my imagination, and is not intended to offend, bore or copy ideas off of any other writer. _

_Also, this is my first FanFiction that I have written, please be nice. And feel free to leave any reviews and follow me on Tumblr: _ blog/crackersandme

_**WARNIING:**_

_This chapter may contain various triggers, if you are sensitive so material involving suicide, blood or depression; DO NOT READ!_

* * *

**Chapter One: The Storm**

It was the last straw for David Karofsky.

The rain washed heavily over the cold, dark pavements outside William McKinley High School. He trudged his way along the path as the Gods soaked his body to the bone. He glared mercilessly at the school; it was the place that started everything, the pain, suffering, humiliation and jealousy.

"This is your fault, you ruined me!" Dave yelled at the building. It stood unheard in the storm.

His voice was silenced by the Gods above. Their anger splattered with intense volume against the concrete car park. Dave's warm tears mixed in with the cold winds and rain hitting his face. He pulled something small out of his jacket pocket. Grasped in his callused, rough, wet hands was the Swiss Army Knife. His father had bought it for him on his tenth birthday; Dave was then promptly told to use it against any faggots. Dave growled at the thought of that bastard. He looked back at the school and nodded to himself, he had made his choice. He was following his father's orders.

The Gods above mocked David Karofsky. They whistled and cheered their wind, glad to have taken another man ruthlessly from Earth. They stomped and pounded their thunder, encouraging him to pull the knife immediately. They laughed at Dave with the swaying trees, unable to stand with their amusement at Dave's struggle. Dave felt resentment to them; his entire life was a joke to please the sick minds of the God's above.

But really, as Dave knew not, they weren't mocking him. The Gods above cried, their tears poured onto the Lima roads and washed into the drains, they cried and cried at the tragedy unfolding before their ever-watching eyes.

To spite them, Dave pulled the blade deeply into his skin. The blood washed off quickly and he barely felt but a prick. The pain from within and the humiliation from above hurt more than any knife could. He let out a noise of satisfaction. The heat radiated and gave him the motivation and energy to thrust the metal once more into his pulsing arm. Despite himself; Dave could only think deeply of Kurt Hummel as he ran the blade along the length of his forearm.

The boy caused Dave so much pain, yet much less than Dave had caused him.

Dave fell to his knees, bones smacking against the hard ground. He looked to the God's above, their storm raged with anger as they protested his actions. He smugly grinned to them.

"You have me now. Is this what you want? Are you happy now?" He moaned.

He pulled the knife out and dug it into his other forearm. With vision was starting to cloud over, Dave could feel himself losing life. He tried to keep my eyes open and he could see the ground come up to meet his body. The Gods were giving him the pillow to rest upon for his journey to death. A great crescendo was forming to show to the world that the Gods take pity on every suffering human, the good and the evil. Dave took one last look at his opened arm and then thought about Kurt again.

He thought about his silky, umber locks, his wishful grey eyes and his porcelain, perfect skin. Dave remembered the way in which Kurt would move gracefully like the wind. The way his soft hair would fall, a waterfall cascading unto his gentle, angelic face. And finally, Dave remembered the look of utmost fear that plastered on Kurt when he laid his gentle eyes on the monstrous form of David Karofsky.

With a final clash of thunder, the instrument of the Gods, everything turned black. It was over.

* * *

David Karofsky found himself away from the storm. Pulling himself onto all fours and thence onto his feet, he looked around. Only one word in the entire English language could effectively describe his surroundings; white. The floor was white, the walls were white and the roof was white. They were all the exact same shade of white also; pure. Even when squinting, Dave could not find the end of the floor and the beginning of the walls. It made him wonder if they were actually there.

Dave tried to take a step forward. He either moved without feeling or felt without moving. He could not tell. He had difficulty comprehending anything to be honest. There was an eerie sensation throughout his whole body. He looked down and couldn't see his body, as if he weren't there. There was simply more whiteness.

_I'm dead. _David said to himself. He couldn't explain anything else. Since being kicked out, he had trouble with his faith. He still believed there was a God, but he believed that the God had nothing but resentment towards him. Dave was cursed with something much worse than pain or fear; it was a longing for something he could never have.

Dave looked to his arms, but they weren't there. _So, I can't be bleeding anymore? _David reasoned to himself. His thoughts were loud, as if they were actual words escaping his mouth. His thoughts didn't belong in his mind, because he had lost his head, they simply existed among the white, shattering the piercing silence. Another voice shattered the silence, and it was not Dave's.

"David Paul Karofsky,"

Dave looked around, there was nothing but white, he couldn't tell which direction the voice came from because it swallowed the whole room as a whole. It was a deep voice, a commanding man's voice. It immediately reminded Dave of his father, which caused him to shudder with revulsion.

The silence held the room again. Unlike a pond which continues to ripple long after the stone hits the bottom, the water of the room was completely still as soon as the voice ended.

"Yes, who's there?" Dave asked uncertainly, his voice had the same effect. He waited a lifetime, or merely a second without an answer. "Am I dead? What's going on here?"

"You are not dead yet," The voice said simply.

"What do I have to do? I just want it to end!" Dave said, frustrated at his inner pain.

"You have one more chance. One chance to change, one chance to fix everything, one chance to have no regrets," It sounded.

"What are you talking about? What is this?" Dave asked again,_ the voice must be God ... or my conscience_, he thought ... _Maybe John Lennon_.

"Do you have regrets; do you wish you could change?" The Gods asked, yet Dave still knew not who they were. "Are you brave enough to be a better person?"

Dave nodded. He had so many regrets. He chose the wrong friends, the wrong group, the wrong lifestyle and the wrong side of the fight. He regretted not coming out by himself and he regretted not saving Kurt from his terrible fate.

"You have deserved your fate David Karofsky, only your pain has saved you. You have the chance to make all right with your life."

Dave looked down, his body was still missing. _Killing his self selfishly, rather than letting the Gods end his life had saved him? _He was astounded that using a knife had given him another chance. The moment in his life was surreal, like a dream Dave knew exactly what was being told to him and exactly what would happen in the near future. Yet, unlike a dream, it was his mind making the decisions of what to say, not the mind of his slumberous counterpart.

"No David Karofsky, the pain of your guilt. Only a man with true regret would feel such torture. And only a man with true regret deserves this chance." The Gods said. "Unto your arm, are the scars from your own selfish indulgence. A death would have been just, had you not killed yourself for another."

Dave knew how they had heard his thoughts; he had practically been screaming them at the top of his lungs. However, he did not understand much of what the Gods had just told him. So they continued.

"We know David Karofsky, that in your time of need, you turned away from us. Rather punishing yourself with pain, fear and regret, than coming to those who may help you. To remind you who gave you this opportunity, after you tried to rid yourself of your life, you will bore scars forever more on your arm."

Dave looked down again, the sight of his arm faded gently through the white of the room. In bright red, the scars he recently cut into himself were visible. A long line down his left forearm with another crossing it, forming a letter T shape. The more Dave looked at the scars, the more they moved. Around his arm the red lines swirled and split until they formed the word _'COURAGE'_. The lettering started at his elbow and ended at his wrist.

Shocked and horrified, Dave leapt back.

"Until you know who to trust, and who may guide you David, a reminder of what you must feel in order to succeed." The voice said. It was getting dimmer and less powerful. Dave nodded as a response, until he realised he still didn't know what the Gods meant by 'succeed', 'one chance' or 'regret'. He knew the words, but didn't know what they were referring to. It was becoming more like a dream; he began to wonder where he actually was. He hadn't before this moment. He was waking up.

"Wait, I need to know –" Dave was cut off by the familiar roar of wind. He began to feel a tingling sensation over his body, removing the serene and lifeless feel of his limbs. The wind was pushing him backwards, he was leaving the room.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do?" he asked frantically, being dragged by the wind.

"You must make things right, fix your regrets. More than your life will be saved." The voices of the Gods were almost gone. Dave was being pulled faster and faster, his feet dragged along the nonexistent floor he stood upon. He reached his arms in front to attempt to grab something on his way past, but there was nothing but white. Trying to resist, Dave tried to turn his head and torso around, to see in which way he was headed, however the intense force was keeping him from doing so. Dave closed his eyes, he was about to crash. His back hit something hard. The back of his body, head, neck, arms and legs all his at the same time.

His knees buckled and his eyes shot open.

* * *

He sat up straight. Then he looked around and realised that he didn't hit anything in blinding white light, he was just dreaming. It was the dream in which you take a fall and land on your bed. He rubbed his eyes.

_I didn't go through with killing myself after all,_ Dave thought. He looked around his room and realised that he was in his old house. The dusk green and woodland brown of his wallpaper was gleaming in the morning sun, as it did before. The wood floor was littered with shoes, clothes, magazines and discarded papers which did not make it into his overflowing bin. The sun shone through the green curtains, giving the light of the room a murky, underwater emotion. The same old laptop stood open, yet turned off, on the paper covered desk which stood by the open closet door. There was even the old cactus standing dried up on the window sill, its silhouette reflecting on the opposite wall.

"This isn't right," Dave whispered. His voice came from his mouth and it came softly. He remembered the loud voice and tried to capture his dream from his mind. It was slipping away like sand from open fingers. All he remembered was the white light. He racked his brain, trying to bring back the dream, yet it was already gone.

"Davey honey, time to wake up now," Dave's mother called.

Dave's thoughts paused. He was definitely kicked out a month ago. At the time of the funeral, he was outed and was given two hours to retrieve his belongings, everything else was mercilessly burned. His mother hadn't called him 'Davey honey' for quite some time, since everything in his life unravelled like a knitted sweater.

"Davey?" his mother called again.

"Uh, yeah, coming," Dave replied bewildered. He flung his arms to his head and shook it, trying to remember what was going on. Was the entire past month a dream? Then Dave saw something out of the corner of his eye which hit him like a truck; a red mark on his forearm.

Dave immediately pulled his hands down and pulled his pyjama sleeve up from his left arm. A scar was there; it looked faded, as if he acquired it weeks ago. To an average eye, it would have looked like a regular scratch, but Dave saw the truth. It was the letter C, right at his elbow on the inside of his forearm. And with that letter C, the entire dream came back to him. The Gods were giving him a chance to –

"Have no regrets" Dave finished his thought in a whisper.

Dave leapt across the bedroom in a fury, as if electrocuted, towards his calendar. The page was turned to November, yet he had no idea what day it was. At last, Dave had realised where he was, and what he had to do. He firstly pulled on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and a winter jacket to go downstairs. He felt unnerved, out of place, in his house. As he sat down at the table, his mother's hazel eyes glowed brightly down at him.

"Davey, are you alright? You look a little ill," She said. Dave shrugged and grabbed a piece of toast. It had been so long since he had eaten his mother's cooking, he was simply savouring the taste of non-rotten food. He couldn't help but notice his mother's appearance. She was short, plump with thick brown curls and a winning smile. She wore her usual yellow apron with pink mushrooms on it for cooking and she wore it over her usual suit for work. She had not yet lost all the weight. She looked healthy, happy and completely unaware that her son was exactly what her husband hates.

"Sweetie, are you okay? I'm sure you look ill, would you like to stay home?" She asked in her gentle voice.

"No Mom, um, do you know what date it is?" Dave asked.

"It would be November ninth today, why do you ask?" She replied.

"No reason, I just lost track of time." Dave said at attempted causality.

"Do you have an assignment due?" She asked, concerned, as Dave was renowned for not completing assignments on time and therefore getting increasingly low grades. Dave shook his head and looked down to his toast, he saw his hands and arms and realised exactly how thick they still were.

_So I haven't lost weight yet either?_ Dave thought.

Dave racked his brains, he had no idea why the Gods had chosen this particular date, it wasn't the date he was kicked out, and it wasn't the date of the funeral. It hit him, today was the day that he kissed Kurt Hummel. It was the day his life turned for the worse and never recovered. Dave's mouth gaped open like an unintelligent ape and he dropped his toast.

"Wait, I do have something to do," Dave said as he sprinted upstairs without another word.

He caught his reflection in his mirror in the passing and realised why his mother thought him ill. His skin was a pale green, his hazel eyes were bloodshot, his lips cracked and his hair a mess. He splashed cold water onto his face and tried to calm himself down, hopelessly assuring himself that many other people are sent back in time by the Gods to fix their personal wrongs before they die.

Dave pulled out an unused notepad from his desk drawer; it was orange with yellow stripes over it. He flipped it to the foremost page and held a pen in a shaking hand. He scribbled in his usual teenage male handwriting and created a list. After squinting at the page for what seemed like hours, deciding for any more to add, he finally accepted his list and gave it a title; My Regrets. The list was as follows:

1. Kissing Kurt

2. Bullying Kurt

3. Lying about my sexuality to Kurt

4. Getting poor grades

5. Lying about my sexuality to my friends

6. Choosing wrong friends

7. Lying about my sexuality to my parents

8. Not admitting my feelings to Kurt

9. Ignoring help

10. Not saving Kurt

Finally happy with the list, Dave dropped the notepad into his backpack and turned to leave his bedroom, but before he did he heard a noise. There was a tapping on his window. Throwing open the green curtains, Dave saw a dove sitting on his window sill. It stopped pecking at the glass and looked Dave straight in the eyes. The green of the pure white dove hit the hazel of the anxious, downtrodden teenage boy.

"Since when are there doves in Lima?" Dave asked himself out loud.

The dove flew off, leaving Dave perplexed. Then as he turned he saw something sitting on his desk. It wasn't there a minute ago when he wrote his list; a piece of paper. He picked it up and opened it.

_A selfish man holds no doors open for anyone but himself._

It was quite a strange thing for Dave to read; however he was having quite a strange morning. He put the paper in his pocket and exited the room. He walked his way to school. What he didn't know was that the Gods above told the dove to give him the letter specifically before he arrived at school.

And they gave it to him for guidance.


	2. Doors Open, Mouths Closed

**One More Chance**

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

_Hello I am E. , author of this FanFiction. _

_I composed the idea of this story a long time ago and have only recently come across it again. It revolves around the characters Kurt Hummel and Dave Karofsky, while including other Glee characters as well. I planned this before the end of season two, and it follows the path in which I want, rather than how Glee actually panned out. This is a story of regret and guilt while still containing a small fantasy element. _

_I do not own Glee and this is purely my imagination, and is not intended to offend, bore or copy ideas off of any other writer. _

_Also, this is my first FanFiction that I have written, please be nice. And feel free to leave any reviews and follow me on Tumblr: _ blog/crackersandme

**Chapter Two: Doors Open, Mouths Closed**

Brown, weathered, cold; William McKinley High School stood exactly as it always had. The ominous grey clouds threatened the spring day with rain. The trees danced sideways to welcome the water to quench their thirst, however, the students of the school rushed inside to avoid any approaching storm.

As David Karofsky set his dirtied sneaker on the pavement of the road, the scent of rain was upon him. His mind automatically flashed back hours to the treacherous storm of his past. Or is it more accurate to say it flashed forward to the treacherous storm of his future?

David was early; he had rushed from his home in a frenzy of panic at his sudden déjà vu. Uncertain on anything at all, David sat himself in the library. The school library was the only reliable room in the school for numerous reasons; it was warm in winter and cool in summer, it was quiet at all times for Mrs Brennan, the librarian was quite peculiar at the decibel level of her abode, and finally, if a person wished to study or sit around in safety, the school library was sure to be rid of athletes.

A particular corner caught David's eyes. Behind the Ancient History book section and quite near the heater, was a corner hidden from the view of much of the library. Sitting down, David pulled out a book on Cleopatra of Egypt. Although it's incredibly unlikely he'd admit it to his friends, David Karofsky loved reading about history for fun. He loved to read of the heroes, the villains, the victims, the bullies, the power and the destruction.

"I can't today, maybe this weekend?" A high voice spoke above the dull murmurs of the gentle atmosphere.

Such a voice pierced the ears of David Karofsky. He knew the song of his former victim and searched his area to find him. David's eyes trailed between the dusty shelves of the Ancient History row and rolled over the tables placed on the other side of his sanctum.

Finally, his eyes rested upon his ever-longing person. Kurt Hummel had meandered into the library, his hair ever as it was, his eyes were just as gratifying blue and his skin as soft and pale as the snow as it had always resembled. There was something else though, something David had not noticed before, tiredness. Kurt Hummel had purple rings encircling the blue of his eyes, his lips were chapped from the cold of the oncoming winter and his face was sunken, completely deflated with exhaustion.

"I'm not feeling well lately Mercedes," Kurt continued to his accompaniment, she cocked her self-assured, yet uncertain head towards her friend.

"Why not? Are you getting the flu?" She asked.

"No, it's just..." Kurt trailed off for a moment, scanning the area for onlookers, not seeing his tormenter, "It's Karofsky and his gang. I'm getting so sick of them and I'm just tired. I can't handle much more."

"Maybe you should talk to someone? Like Mr Shuester or Ms Pillsbury? They'll try to help you, it's their job!" Mercedes cried out.

"I want to, but nothing will happen. They get me when there's no one around, or no one watching. I can't prove that they're pushing me around. And the worst part is, I'm not frustrated because of the bullying, I'm terrified because I don't know what they might do next. I just can't handle not being able to turn corners in this school." Kurt let a breath of air release from his lungs; he had spoken so quickly and so softly that he had no time to breathe.

David's stomach felt as though it had a boulder placed within it. Never had he considered to the extent that his bullying had affected Kurt Hummel psychologically. Accompanying the guilt was the sensation of his organs twisting and weighing down his body, but also, unexpectedly, David's forearm twinged with a stinging near his elbow.

Rolling up his sleeves, David's eyes dropped down unto his arms, the letter C was becoming more prominent. As of the morning, it looked as though it was a scar faded for months, but with the guilt, it burned his skin red hot. But a moment of pain had changed the colour of the skin so dramatically that as David looked upon it, he could have sworn it looked simply days old.

David glared up to the ceiling, yet looked beyond it. He clenched his jaw to the Gods residing, ever-watching above him.

"You brought him here to make me suffer," David spoke in such a whisper that it was inaudible, even to him. "You're punishing me," it was not a question.

David had had enough of what he believed torment by the Gods. He slid the book resting gently on his lap roughly back into its allocated position of the shelf. Pulling by his knees, David stood up. Though, simply by standing, a sudden realisation dawned upon David. The only exit of the library was placed two feet from where Kurt and Mercedes were seated.

Swallowing his fear and overcoming his recent pain, David walked strongly toward the door. Kurt Hummel froze in his padded chair, his mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged. The once safe haven of the library was now swarming with the enemy, it had appeared. David couldn't help but glance to his left, finally seeing Kurt up close. Unfortunately, seeing the look settled upon Kurt's face stung David like his forearm. The fear plastered to Kurt reminded David fully of his deeds and what he must fix in order to help not only himself, but Kurt.

Soon after leaving the library, the bell sounded for homeroom. After a tiresome ten minutes of gazing out the window upon the ominous dark clouds threatening the day, the bell sang to David once more to meet his next class.

* * *

First lesson of the day was football for David. Once a lesson he had looked forward to each and every fortnight, it now appeared as his worst nightmare. Though he would have striven to have avoided Azimio and the other 'jocks', it was clear from the beginning that with football and various other classes together, the feat was impossible.

"Hey buddy," Azimio called as David entered the change room to get into his sporting attire. "Where were you this morning, you know we were getting those glee freaks."

Finn, Sam, Mike and Artie whom were both in New Directions and the football team, glowered at Azimio's comments.

"I came late to school, sorry." David lied.

"Hey, no you didn't, we saw your car!" Another footballer, Jason, exclaimed. Eyebrows among the locker room were simultaneously raised. Artie whispered something to Finn and the look, such a look of confusion and suspicion flashing over Finn's otherwise dull expression, caused David's stomach to drop.

"Apparently Kurt saw David stalking him in the library," Finn said throughout the silence. Eyes returned back unto David. Turning red, David thought quickly, he wasn't ready for the onslaught of hate from his old friends; he wasn't ready to relive the trauma of that moment.

"Fine, I was in the library studying history because if I fail my exam today, Mrs Simmons will fail me and my parents will ground me." It wasn't completely a lie, from his remembrance of this day previously, he did in fact fail the exam and his parents did in fact ground him for that. The footballers seemed to accept this excuse, for, as most of them had been in the same position more than once before, it was positively believable.

The brutality of the next hour was unbelievable. For the Gods had not yet shed a tear upon the day, football practice was held in the usual slippery, dewy grass setting. Paired up against one another, each man threw himself violently at his counterpart. David unceremoniously looked up towards the grey heavens each and every minute. He could feel their eyes, watching his every move.

Teamed against Finn, David was thrown towards the ground in a tackle often. Though Finn was taller, David was larger, yet he was so unfocused that he had not made a single tackle for entirety of their practice. Nearing the end of the hour, David attempted a tackle on Finn, who jumped aside at the last second with the pointed ball. To protect himself, David forced his left arm in front of his face to soften the fall onto the slick and muddy grass. His weight rested unintentionally upon the scar formed upon his forearm.

David grunted in pain and pulled his still hot arm from beneath him. The pain still twinged and it was clear to David how the scar was not simply a mark unto his skin, but in fact, a deep gash, a reminder of his guilt and his misdeeds burned forever more within his pale flesh.

The practice ended there with David grasping his injury in his right hand.

"Man, did you crack a bone or something? You weigh a ton man, the smart thing to do would be to not fall on yourself and break a bone." Azimio was mocking David, yet underneath, he was still worried for his friend.

"I'm fine, I just wasn't paying much attention." David said, letting go of his arm and beginning to put his regular clothes back on.

"You're really worried about this exam huh?" Azimio said, not really asking a question. David had forgotten entirely about the exam. He needed at least a 97% to make up for his previous dismal result in the first assessment task of the year. From his memory, the Gods had punished his lack of effort, his bullying and his partying with a simple 45%. David was ashamed. The incessant yelling from his father was nothing compared to the humiliation that bubbled within David at the time of his result's reveal. In addition to his dismal behaviour and lifestyle choice, David could not even pass a simple history exam.

* * *

David spent his morning thinking of a way in which he could approach Kurt, though he found no way he could get Kurt to even stand near him, let alone talk to him. David became noticeably airy throughout the morning.

The Gods watched with worried eyes. It was a day such as another for David Karofsky; he was not yet making amends, nor achieving any actions from his regrets list. The Gods had given him his warning for the day, the reminder of the guilt as he understood Kurt's stance on his bullying ways. The Gods though, knew David well, they knew his thoughts and they understood his wants. They knew it would take time for him to fix his regrets and save his own soul.

It was fourth period when David saw Kurt once more, yet it was also the hour for his history exam. The questions came familiar to David, as he had attempted them poorly once before. However he knew not the correct answers this second time either, for David had become so overcome with humiliation and disgust at receiving a 45% the first time, that he had stuffed away his exam, never reading upon his mistakes again.

David tried his hardest throughout the exam. He finished his final question as Mrs Simmons called "pens down". He knew immediately, that once again, he failed his history exam. Kurt turned and smiled at Rachel, his only friend within that class. It was clear by his expression that he had gone well in the exam. Many factors could have told a bystander that though, for Kurt had scribbled and whipped his hand across the paper with lightening speed, he needed not to consider any question as he knew them all. He, along with Mike Chang, was one of the first completed.

David felt envy for Kurt; it was not the first time in his life, yet it was for it was David's second life.

"Excuse me, Mrs Simmons." David asked at the end of the lesson as the other students filed to lunch. She looked up in shock; it was the foremost time in which David had addressed her politely.

"I know I did terribly on that exam. I didn't study. I really regret that now. Please, please can I have another chance? I promise that I won't mess up again. I'll try my hardest and I won't slack off in class." He pleaded. Mrs Simmons looked over David with confusion for a minute, before finally settling on a decision.

"You did rather poorly in your first assessment. You need a very high grade to make up for it for your report card." David nodded in agreement. "I'll give you one chance, but you really do have to apply yourself. You can come back tomorrow and retake the test."

David thanked her and left for lunch. He was getting second chances within his second chance. He knew that the Gods had played a role within Mrs Simmons as she would most likely otherwise never have given a student the opportunity to retake an exam worth a quarter of the grade. The Gods were happy, because they knew progress was being made and David would see them not as punishing him, rather than loving and helping him.

David made his way to lunch next. He had missed a few minutes as he had stayed back to talk with Mrs Simmons, but he still had another twenty minutes to eat the appalling cuisine of William McKinley High School. Two double doors stood guarding the cafeteria. There was something about them that always reminded David as a fortress or dungeon entrance. From the outside, the silence of the isolated hallway swallowed David's trudging journey along to the cafeteria. Yet, the moment the double glass doors were opened, even the slightest crack, the ferocious screeching of the feeding teenagers within surrounded David entirely.

As David opened the door, the reflection showed a figure sprinting up the hallway, with another group shortly behind him. Kurt ran to the safety of the cafeteria whilst David's so called friends brutally chased him like a pack of dogs. This time in David's first life, he shamefully was included in the vile brigade, as he, in his first life, didn't remain back to speak with Mrs Simmons for those few minutes. The sickening memory sprouted in David's mind, after catching Kurt shortly before the very doors he stood at, the football team dumped three slushies on him, vulgarly insulted him and one promptly spat upon him also. David, feeling appalled at his past deeds once more, remembered in the smallest of seconds the note given to him by the dove before he left school – "_A selfish man holds no doors open for anyone but himself" _

David was no longer the selfish man he was before. He pushed the door and stood by it. Kurt, seizing the chance, ran through quickly and darted out of the maze of students and into the abyss, surely to hide amongst the man hallways of McKinley. The lockers only had but few dents in many lockers to acclaim their differing attributes. David promptly stepped through and let the door behind him, trying his hardest not to turn and face his friends. The double-doors slammed in their faces and caught them up, leaving them completely unable to pursue their target.

"What the hell Karofsky?" One asked; it was Jason again.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," Karofsky said, his voice monotonic.

"You haven't seen a lot today. Get focused!" Jason commanded. The other footballers agreed with their expressions. They had noticed David's dismal performance in football training, and also his absence in their recreational bullying activities.

"Sorry," Karofsky said again. Jason scoffed.

"Well faggot's gone now. Probably off to sniff our uniforms in the change rooms. Thanks man," Jason added sarcastically. David looked into the faces of the other footballers. All of them, including Azimio had expressions of disappointment and frustration toward David. They walked in the other direction, giving one last filthy look at David. David shrugged and moved on to eat his lunch in solitude. Kurt did not appear again until David had finished eating and made his way to his locker to retrieve his books for the final class of the day.

* * *

The hallways were frozen by the winds seeping into the school from the cracked open windows lying at the end of each and every dusty hallway. Walking through, David's mind wandered and he shivered to his feet, he thought of how to resolve his problems and get away from his bullying friends. Not seeing where he was going, David turned a corner quickly and collided straight into Kurt Hummel. Being the larger of the two, David remained unscathed, whereas Kurt was thrown of his feet. The phone which was clutched within his hands smacked against the ground and slid away to the locker. David froze, shocked at the moment. The hallways were filled with the noise of silence and the lockers stood darkened by the ever-glooming sky out of the window. Lunch was still in session and the hallways were deserted. With eyes bulging, David watched a pained Kurt open his eyes and glare at his terroriser. The glare turned into complete dread as Kurt's mind registered just exactly the man standing above him.

"I –" David began, but Kurt had jumped to his feet suddenly and backed down the hall at large paces.

"Stay away from me David Karofsky!" Kurt demanded. Shell shocked, David did as he said and remained still as Kurt sauntered down the halls and out of sight.

Still feeling an imprint of the impact, a sudden memory occurred to David. It was the exact day of his and Kurt's kiss. It was the exact day in which things had changed. Yet, in his second chance, a chance of change, everything had remained exactly so it had been before. There was no kiss, David was still closeted, and Kurt still feared his tormenter; David felt saddened that he was wasting his time.

He had a list at home ready for his misdeeds, yet he had not yet fixed a single one.

David was ready to dully get his books and wait silently in the cold and dreaded rain for his final class, but before leaving, he saw something which was of greatest importance. Kurt had run off so quickly that he had forgotten his phone. Knowing the dangers of lost property at McKinley, David picked it up, happy to have an excuse to approach and speak with Kurt.

However, the Gods had decided that David would need to wait before conversing with Kurt, for they had separated the two boys from the moment of their crash. David took the phone and kept it within his bag for the rest of the school day, and then, still not locating Kurt Hummel, he brought it home with himself.

* * *

David never liked his house. He had entered houses of other people. They were not nearly as large as his house, yet, with that, they were also not nearly as empty. Though his house physically always had at least one person residing within it, whether it was his mother, his father, his cleaner or his gardener; yet no matter how full, one was always lonely. The white bricked, greyed by the shadowing skies, was never inviting to those who looked upon it, but rather, cold and tired. The interior was the exact same, the furniture was perfectly aligned, the picture frames evenly spread, the surfaces scrubbed down and the floor swept neatly; it never felt warm, cosy or family oriented. David truly envied those with houses smaller and messier than his own, for they were the true homes.

"Hello Davey," his mother called as she heard the clear audible squeaking of the door opening.

"Hello Mom," David called back. He felt a pang being called Davey; he sorely missed the days when his mother gently labelled him as her son and family member. Feeling a push by the Gods of family and love, David entered the living room where his mother read.

"I love you Mom," David said, not caring for anything else.

"I love you too Davey," His mother replied slowly, "Is something wrong, you still look sick?"

"I went badly in my history exam today," David said truthfully.

"Again?" His mother asked. David nodded before realising that she was referring to his previous history assessment of the school year, rather than his previous life.

"I'm sorry, I spoke with Mrs Simmons, and she said I can retake it tomorrow, so I guess I'll study tonight." David said.

"I'm proud to see you taking initiative on this David, it's truly an improvement." His mother said glowing. David smiled weakly. "I hope you know that I'll always be proud to have you as my son David, because I know that deep inside, you're a good person and although you've slacked off for the start of this year, you can pull yourself right back up. I love you Sweetie," his mother said as she was overcome with the sudden change in David's attitude. For the past year or so, his grade had been slipping and he had not cared in the slightest. His mother was disappointed for those years.

"I know Mom," David said. This was a lie because he knew that the moment she found the truth, he would no longer be her son. The thought brought pain once more to David's heart, but also, to the Gods above. For they also understood how not all were capable to love each other for any and all of their mistakes. David looked above his mother's head to the window. It had finally started raining. The Gods let their tears shed on the words of Mary Karofsky.

David excused himself and went upstairs. He pulled out his history book and began to find the chapters in which he had to revise. A sudden vibration occurred from within his open schoolbag. He pulled out Kurt's phone and a message had appeared from Blaine Anderson.

"_Trust can rely exactly where you want it not." _

David found it strange to have come from Blaine Anderson. It sounded like nothing a teenage boy, even such a flamboyant one, would say. Thinking it over, David checked to see if he had read it properly.

There was no new message from Blaine Anderson on Kurt Hummel's phone.


End file.
